The Fall
by NoMoreTears
Summary: What's dead is dead, and there's no coming back once a vampire meets their end. But those rules no longer apply, as those that should have been permanently erased from this earth are coming back with only one thing in mind: to kill.
1. Chapter 1

Steve Newlin was dead. He had to be; the only thing the vampire had left was a consciousness full of rage and memories that continually played in his head. It was torture, worse than anything they had done to him in that death camp, to float in the hazy grey space without the ability to move or speak. The only thing Steve was capable of doing was watching himself die over and over again at the hands of one Eric Northman.

The hatred alone that he felt could have been enough to bring him back to life, just to kill the vampire that had deemed him unfit to live. Who was he to decide that?

The tall blonde had held him just out of reach of the blood that would have kept him alive just like everyone else. While the sun had poured in through the open roof, bright and oh so hot, he was shocked to see Northman had not gone up in flames as he did. Eric's blood hadn't boiled under his skin, nor did his cells feel like they were imploding one by one within him. His skin hadn't shriveled and dried before bursting under the force of his blood spewing outward. His killer was fine, unscathed by the summer sun that was ultimately supposed to kill them all, but hadn't because of whatever magic Bill Compton possessed.

Magic that they were all granted a taste of. Everyone but him. All Steve could hear was the snarling as they ripped into Bill, gorging on his century's old body. Any inch of him that they could reach they drank from, sputtering as they raced to fill their bellies. It was almost worthy of amazement that Bill, his would be savior, had not dried up and become a husk of a man. Still, his killer had held him there while the seconds ticked by rapidly and Steve wondered how he hadn't died right along with him. Had Bill given him blood already? He doubted it; Northman seemed too proud to ask for help, but he wouldn't be above taking it by force. That seemed more like the conniving bastard.

While Eric blamed him for the death of his loved ones, Steve at least got the last laugh, and even now cherished the look on his bitch wife's face. Shouting up at the sun his declaration of love for Jason Stackhouse, he remembered clearly the look of disgusted confusion Sarah had given him. Steve would die a thousand more deaths if he could relive that moment each time, and even more if he'd been allowed to turn around to see Jason through the thick layer of glass to show him that not only was it his final act of spite, but the last truth he would ever utter before perishing.

The memories began slipping away from him, darkening as his limbs dissipated, fading away along with the last face he'd give anything to see again. He held onto the memory of the human that had captured his heart and swore that somehow he'd find a way back to his doorstep, no matter what it took.

* * *

Jason Stackhouse had arrested a total of three people this morning. The number would have been larger if the others hadn't turned tail and ran, but Jason hadn't even begun to consider his inability to catch them as a failure. He couldn't blame them for what they did; vampires were an enemy of the state, and even though he was told otherwise, Jason liked to believe they were all sick vampires. Every single one of them that had been bound in silver netting and tossed into the middle of an intersection, but he knew that was wrong.

Some of them, judging by the houses that had been broken into, were part of the buddy system Sam and Bill had set up for the town. Two of the possible dozens that had been killed were protectors of a small family of three that had been friends even before those vamps had been turned. It was a sad day and a tragic loss for some, but for Jason, it was just another Tuesday.

It pained him to see that this is what they had come to, all this senseless violence, and he wondered if things would have been the same even if the vampires hadn't come out of the coffin. Jason silently wished they hadn't, but knew that if they hadn't revealed themselves, he wouldn't have met Violet.

Jason cringed at the thought of her. She was good to him, he couldn't deny that; but when things were bad…they were bad. And she was part of the reason that he couldn't just let those people go. As much as he'd wanted to, murder was murder, and if Jason wanted the protection of a powerful vampire he would have to do her kind as little justice as he could these days. And that meant apprehending their human aggressors and trying his hardest to keep a handle on things.

Not many were willing to take on such a feat and would have given up once the murders reached a fever pitch, but Jason was never one to back down.

Nor was he one to deny himself a good meal.

* * *

Sookie looked on from the back as her brother marched through the front door of Bellefleur's. She didn't have to read his mind to be able to tell that something was wrong. His pinched face and lips that were set into a deep frown were all the indication she needed. Something was up with her brother and had been for some time after he'd returned from the vampire camp with Bill and the others. Jason's demeanor had changed, but then again, hadn't everyone's?

Bon Temps had gone to hell over the course of a few months and Sookie was surprised anyone even showed up to Bellefleur's anymore. The last shreds of normalcy had been taken from them after the first attack, their livelihood after the others that soon followed. A warm meal during the daylight hours was the last bit of comfort they could afford and it was only a matter of time before that would become a thing of the not so distant past.

As much as she had tried to stay out of his business—everyone's business, really—Jason was the only constant she had, and he was slipping away from her. For weeks he hadn't come around and never failed to find some excuse to avoid joining her and Alcide at home. So she turned to Lafayette, a dear friend of her and Jason for help in getting to the root of Jason's problem. She wouldn't lose her brother, not now after all that they'd been through together.

"Look at him." Sookie said, leaning against the wall near the window. Lafayette followed her gaze to the booth where Jason sat, staring blankly at the menu. He looked as though the life was being sucked from him. "Every time I see him, he's always got that same miserable look on his face. Jason's never like that."

The cook shook his head. "Poor thing looks like someone kicked his dog. What d'you think has him feeling worse than every motherfucker in here?"

"I don't know."

"You? The mind reader?" He scoffed. "If anything, I'd think you know exactly what was going on."

Sookie scowled. "Well I don't. How do you think we can help him? He won't stop by anymore. I've got no clue how to get him alone."

"You're a big girl. I'm sure you'll come up with a way to lure him over." Lafayette said, his eyes focused on the man in question. Whatever it was that had gotten him down, he hoped Sookie would help him get over it. He never thought he'd say it, but Jason was one of the more level-headed people in Bon Temps as of late. He'd done a lot to help everyone and to go off the deep end now would do no one good.

"Let me know when you figure somethin' out." He said after a moment and returned to the kitchen.

Sookie could be crafted when she wanted to be, and now was the time to devise something Jason couldn't pass up.

Jason sat with his head buried in his hands, listening to the hushed chatter of the other diners. He set the menu aside—a real waste it was, he knew what he wanted—and looked around, quietly speculating on who would be least likely to survive the next wave of attacks. The number of survivors was slowly thinning out. There were too many vampires that all seemed dead set on taking every last life in this town. How much had the people here sinned that they deserved this kind of hell?

While he thought of one version of Hell, another slid into the seat across from him. He didn't have to look her way to know exactly who it was. Jason could smell the bitterness in her blood from all the drugs she'd been taking, and the musk that seemed to emanate from her every pore. It was a sickening mix and Jason couldn't even begin to fathom what had brought her around now.

Crystal's pack of incest-born panthers was a lost cause, and whatever the tweaker thought he could possibly do for them, he couldn't, or rather he wouldn't. Still, his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

"What do you want?"

"Jason, we need your help." Crystal didn't bother to waste time dancing around the subject. She could have played coy, but the end times didn't allow for that. "Our people are sick, and with the world the way it is…we need someone strong around to take care of us, and protect us. You have an obligation to our pack, Jason. _Your_ pack."

Anger made his blood boil and he could feel his eyes beginning to change as he teetered on the edge of remaining human and shifting right there in the bar. Jason couldn't believe she had even managed to say the words with a straight face. Crystal and her pack had ruined him, taken his humanity away and given him something he never, ever wanted. Yet there she was, staring hopefully at him as if all was well between the two.

He still remembered the last time Crystal had shown her face around Bon Temps. It was on the eve of his first change, weeks after everything had begun to settle down following his experience at the camp. It was like he had come down with something—something terminal he had feared, as his body felt as though it were beginning to shut down.

The doctor had said it was the flu, but even Violet knew that was wrong. Both of them could tell it was something else, something that had taken over his system and made it their own. Jason recalled the aversion she had felt toward him for a short time, how horrid he had smelled and tasted to her. He was different, terribly different, and never had he felt so alone.

And that was when Crystal appeared, one evening during a slow shift. He had started to feel better, enough that he could manage to sit at his desk without passing out. It was a few hours past sundown and the temperature had dropped. The breeze had been a godsend then as he sat outside to escape the stale air tinged with sweat.

He saw her trek across the parking lot toward him, her eyes focused intently on his. Jason wanted to go back inside, lock the doors, and hide underneath his desk. The sight of her was utterly reviling and left a knot in his stomach.

She stood at the curb as if she could sense that he hadn't wanted her to come any closer. It was understandable; they had parted on bad terms, which even she knew was an understatement—a grand one—and respected his need for space.

"_What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be off kidnapping people and tying 'em up?" Jason asked. _

_Crystal cringed. "You know what I'm here for, Jason. It's happening."_

"_What is?" he coughed and clutched at his aching sides. _

"_You're changing. Becoming one of us."_

"_One of you? No." Jason shook his head. "That ain't possible. Only vampires can be turned."_

"_It's not up to you to decide what's possible or not. You will turn...it just takes a while since you don't have panther blood in you, but it'll happen."_

As much as he tried to deny it, the crazy woman was right. Not a few days later on the front lawn of his house, Jason collapsed onto the porch. His body writhed in pain, convulsing as his bones cracked and reformed. Tanned skin tore as he adjusted to the new shape, and watched helplessly as he made the first transition from man to monster. And just as she had been there to warn him of the impending change, she was there again, already shifted, waiting for him by the treeline.

He recalled little of that night but for the mix of horror and disgust he felt. Jason hated what he was, but there was no changing it now. He was stuck.

"I'm not doing it. I want nothing to do with you people, now if you could please get the hell away from me." Jason gestured to the front door, but Crystal hadn't budged.

"You're making a mistake, Jason, turning your back on your kind."

"You aren't my kind." Jason growled. "Now leave."

_Psycho bitch_, he thought.

Crystal hesitated but finally left, rushing out of the booth as Sookie approached the two. The panther pushed her out of the way, directing her anger at the oblivious sibling which did nothing to quell her growing uneasiness regarding Jason's affairs. Sookie leaned into the side of the booth across from her brother and casually approached the situation.

"What was that all about?"

Jason shrugged. "Who knows? She's all hopped up on something, couldn't tell what the heck she was ramblin' on about. Told her to go get some rest."

There was more to it than that. She had seen the exchange, and while she couldn't hear what was said, their body language had suggested a more hostile conversation than Jason let on. Sookie decided not to press the issue; if she wanted Jason to come see her, it would be beneficial _not_ to have him angry at her for prying.

There was always time for that later when she got him alone, and if he chose not to be honest then, she had her ways of digging up the truth.

With his order taken, Sookie asked offhandedly before giving the ticket to Lafayette, "Hey, there's a problem with my sink and Alcide isn't around—he's got some job that took him upstate. Do you mind taking a look in the meantime for me?"

"Sure, Sook."

She hadn't expected him to concede that easily and almost questioned his answer. Jason hadn't said yes to much lately except going home and answering calls when another body was found. Sookie was happy despite the circumstance, getting to see her brother's face around the house again, even though she was sure that once he found out what he was really there for he'd be less than enthused.

Sookie smiled. "Great. I'll be right back with your food."

* * *

Jason trudged up the front stairs, ready to fix his sister's sink for the millionth time. The pipes were always broken; he wondered why she didn't have someone come out and replace the damned thing, but at least it gave him an excuse to get out of the station for a while. Jason was thankful for that much, though eventually another call would come in about another body being found and he'd have to run off again to view one of the many unrecognizable corpses.

"All in a day's work." he mumbled.

The door opened before he could raise his hand to knock. Sookie stood in the doorway, still in her work clothes, and smiled warmly before stepping aside to let her brother in. She watched as he paused awkwardly in the foyer, looking around as if this had been the first time he ever saw the house.

Jason hid his face from Sookie while he sniffed at the air. There was someone else in the house with them and after a moment he realized who it was.

"What's Lafayette doing here?"

Sookie's eyes widened, momentarily forgetting she wasn't the only gifted one in the family anymore.

"He's just stopping by. Why don't you sit with us for a minute before you get to work?" she asked. "Just relax. I know you've been working hard."

Jason Stackhouse may not have been the brightest bulb in the pack, but he was smart enough to know when something was up. His sister seemed terribly uneasy and rarely did he ever see her so nervous. For the time being, he thought it best to placate her and find out just what the hell was going on.

"Alright then." Jason shrugged and followed her into the living room and sat down across from Lafayette on one of the arm chairs. In truth, he would have much rather been sprawled out on one of the couches.

As much as he hated to admit it, the vampire sleep cycle was taking a toll on his body. No matter how much blood Violet gave him it could never make up for what his body craved. Jason needed sleep, food, and as he settled into the chair, realized he needed this too.

His family. His friends.

Jason had been away from them for far too long, and while he didn't think anyone could blame him—after all, recent events hadn't exactly left anyone able to carry out normal activities—part of him still felt bad.

Violet and all of the vampire bullshit that followed after his stint at the camp had driven a wedge between the siblings, and sucked the life out of him. Surely he wasn't the only one who noticed he'd been a bit off, and judging by the pitiful stares they were giving him right now, he was correct.

"You gonna say anything, or just stare at me like I got five heads?" Jason asked, trying to keep his tone light. He didn't feel comfortable with them watching him, evidenced by the way he shifted around in the seat. The will couldn't be found for him to remain still and with each restless movement, the floorboards creaked beneath him, filling the quiet space with the less than pleasant sound.

Sookie thought about the best way to approach him. She could ease into it and hope by the time that they had reached the subject Jason would be comfortable enough to disclose anything that he may have been keeping from her. Or, she could take the more straightforward route and not pull any punches. The fairy had spent the better part of her shift since she'd bumped into Jason that afternoon wondering about this. The choice didn't come easy, but she made her decision.

"We're worried about you, Jason." Lafayette nodded beside Sookie as she spoke. "You haven't been acting like yourself at all. Is there something wrong?"

"No, there isn't." Jason said. "Work's just getting to me."

The answer he gave his sister was simple, but what had been tearing him up was more complex than work troubles. If anyone had really taken the time to give the young officer more than just a cursory glance, they could see that his issues ran much deeper. Jason felt run down mentally and physically, and the emotional toll his relationship had taken on him he couldn't find the words to describe.

But what he could find the words for is how close he was to losing it. Jason had reached his breaking point and was one more night with his vampire lover away from finally cracking.

Violet was great in the beginning. Old and interesting, and smarter than he'd ever be. Months down the line he realized the full extent of her possessiveness when she began isolating him from the rest of the world. Heaven forbid he mentioned anyone else or his desire to be in their company, be it woman or man, the anger she exhibited was unlike anything he'd ever seen. In those times she was no stranger to using physical means to get her point across and threatening the lives of those he formerly called friends. To be himself was something he'd never again be able to do and was far from worth fighting for. He lost every time.

The thought of freeing himself from the vampire's hold often came, and he wasn't sure how he could pull off such a thing. If he ever mentioned that he wanted to go their separate ways, she'd glamour him before he could even finish his sentence. Jason would forget about his grievances and Violet would get to keep him for another day. It was just how things worked now.

The only other option he had was killing her, but Jason didn't have the balls to do it. He couldn't even finish off Newlin's wife, who had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

Jason looked up at Sookie, soon realizing that neither of them had said a word in the past several minutes. He'd been mulling over killing Violet while the telepath sat directly across from him, most likely well aware of the turmoil in his head. Jason had no doubt she had been listening in; Sookie couldn't resist, she never could, and he wondered if she had heard everything. If she had, she was doing a damn good job of hiding it. Her face was blank and as far as he could tell, her pulse hadn't jumped. She was still calm, still staring at him with that condescending face.

_As if all her shit was together. _

"I need a drink. Either of you want a beer?" Jason jumped up from his seat, unable to sit still. He needed to move, to get away from the two of them. He understood that their hearts were in the right place, and God bless them for caring enough to do this. But sitting there under close watch was stifling. Jason felt like a kid that had been called to the principal's office and all he could do was sit and squirm while they waited for an explanation for his bad behavior.

He certainly had one. It just wasn't worth giving.

"I could use a drink." Lafayette said. "Something stronger than beer would be nice, but shit, I'll take it."

Jason rushed out of the room without another word and made his way to the fridge. He found the six pack on the top shelf and twisted the cap off. Jason grimaced at the slightly warm alcohol; Sookie had to have bought it on the way home, but that hadn't stopped him from sucking down half of its contents before remembering Violet didn't like it when he drank. It made his blood taste bad, but in that moment, he couldn't have given less of a fuck.

Jason had to do something to fix the mess he was in. He didn't know what, but he'd figure it out. He always did.

He watched from the doorway as they spoke in hushed voices, watching the way their lips twisted with each word they uttered. Just as he turned away to grab another from the fridge for Lafayette, the pair rose and joined Jason in the kitchen.

Sookie had heard everything that went through Jason's mind. Of course she had. There was no way in hell she could have held back, not when her brother's well-being was compromised. She felt nothing but sympathy for her brother who faced a situation she had been in not long ago. Sookie didn't want that life for him. Her brother was a good person. He didn't deserve this.

Vampire blood, while it had its uses, was an awful thing. She was determined to make Jason see he had a way out of this.

"I know you think you love Violet..."

Jason groaned. "God dammit, Sookie."

"Look, I know better than anyone what the blood does. Think about what I had with Bill; I thought I loved him. I didn't. He'd only tricked my mind into thinking everything we had was genuine. It traps you and binds you to something that would only kill you in the end."

Jason slammed the beer down on the table with enough force that the glass should have broken in his palm. "One way or another a vampire is gonna kill me. They're gonna kill all of us. So what does it matter?"

"She's already killing you." Lafayette spoke up for the first time since he'd gotten there. "And you know it."

Jason's cellphone rang, startling the three of them. He pulled the phone from his pocket and read the short message.

"Shit." He muttered and ran a hand through his hair. "I gotta go. We'll…we'll talk later, I promise."

Jason didn't wait for a response and excused himself. He paused at the top of the stairs and leaned into the bannister. The sun was hovering over the horizon and in an hour's time, the threat none of them wanted to face would rear its ugly head and bare its fangs. Bon Temps latest crime scene would no doubt attract a horde of vampires if it wasn't cleared before night fall. Jason ran to his truck and climbed into the driver's seat, slumping his body over the wheel.

Everything his sister had said was right. He knew the blood was the only thing keeping him around this long. The only good thing Violet did was keep him safe and that calmed his mind some, but how long could he trade happiness for safety? For the comfort of his friends, his family? Violet was selfish. Jess would never do this to him.

Jason froze and immediately began thinking of everything but the redhead. Anything to muddy her image, for he feared that Violet would somehow figure out he thought of someone but her. Jason tried his hardest to push her name to the back of his mind where it now belonged.

As his arms dropped down to his sides, his hand grazed the cool metal of the gun holstered at his waist. For a moment, in the throes of his hopelessness, Jason considered ending it all. He could do so easily.

But Jason Stackhouse was never one to give up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews, and the favorites/follows. I really appreciate it! Enjoy!**

* * *

In truth, Steve Newlin wouldn't have minded being naked, vulnerable, and flat on his back had there been a hunk of a man filling the empty space above him. That hunk being Jason Stackhouse, of course. Sadly, for Newlin that wasn't the case. All that covered his body were the blinding rays of the hot sun, the sun that had once meant danger and now—he realized, after failing to combust—served only as a source of warmth.

Steve laughed aloud, eyes searching for someone to share this revelatory moment with, but the vampire soon realized he was alone. His only company was the sprawling expanse of lush, green grass; the hills that climbed toward the cloudless sky, and the trees reaching up toward the sun, just as eager as he was to bask in its light, and he did just that. Not since the time before vampires had made themselves known had Steve felt this kind of peace. A loud sigh escaped the young man while he stretched his pale limbs and nestled into the grass. Minutes passed and he was sure he'd melt right into the ground and become one with the earth. The feeling was magical, and he prayed to God—sweet, sweet God—that this bliss would be never ending.

It came hard and fast, like love, or an upset stomach after eating too much fast food. Steve was glad he was already lying down, though curling into a ball on his side was no easy feat. He struggled to turn himself over, flopping on his back several times onto the grass that now felt like needles on his burning skin. The pain began in his gums, throbbing behind his fangs and spread slowly through every muscle, engulfing them in an invisible flame that burned him to the core.

Steve felt like he was dying all over again, his smooth skin turned taught and dry, bones brittle beneath his twitching muscles. He waited for the inevitable rupturing of his frame, to burst and leave nothing behind but a Steve Newlin shaped stain on the ground.

"This isn't Heaven." He cried pitifully into the dirt. "This is Hell; a cruel trick played on me by the Devil."

"Hell for one, but not for all."

Newlin smelled the blood before he registered the voice, fangs extending as he rolled onto his back and stared up. His eyes quickly scanned the feminine form, doused in red, and focused on her face. She held a sense of familiarity about her and it took a moment before he realized who the stranger was.

"Lilith." Steve all but whispered. The first time he encountered the elder vampire she was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, manifested in a drug induced haze. Yet here she was again, though now he was in a right state of mind. Or so he thought.

Pain had a funny way of affecting the body.

His hand reached out to touch her, finger tips lazily grazing the top of her foot. "You look so real. Are you? What is this place?" he found himself full of questions then.

"Eden." She said simply. "If I were the one to decide your fate, you would not be here. A vampire such as yourself is not fit for a Heaven like this."

Lilith was far from wrong. Steve had made himself an enemy of the vampire race as human, and after his turning, had done little—if anything—to improve upon his image. His acts were the reason he found himself here, in this afterlife, instead of on earth alongside the rest of the survivors from Sarah's death camp. He swallowed hard; would Lilith make this his own Hell? Or was there a way he could redeem himself in the progenitor's eyes?

His panicked mind conjured visions of endless torture and isolation, the denial of partaking in the pleasures the vampire haven would surely have. Steve knew there were others, and if all vampires found their way here in the end…he wondered if the enemies he made would find him first. The brutality he'd face at their hands, eternal violence…he shook the thought from his head.

Whenever he found the strength to move, he would need to remind himself not to wander too far; the fringes were his safest bet.

"You're going to punish me, aren't you? For all the things I've done? I don't blame you if you do, I deserve it, but—"

"It is not my job to punish you, nor will I waste my time on someone like you." Lilith said. "Come; you need to feed."

Steve's brows pinched together in confusion. He was dead—really dead this time—and as far as he knew, what was dead required no sustenance. Earthly needs and desires were beyond him now, as well as all of the vampires here. Steve believed they were truly immortal.

"Why do I need to feed? I'm a ghost. I'm…nothing. Nothing needs nothing to live." Steve said.

"You do not need it to live, but the blood that flows here in Eden is a gift from God himself. It is unlike anything you'd find on earth—"

"Better than fairy blood?" Steve asked. He wasn't sure there was such a thing.

She narrowed her eyes. "Yes, far better than that. Come with me now, we'll ease your pain."

Against his better judgment he tailed the contempt riddled she-devil. Lilith glistened in the light, radiating a macabre sort of beauty as the blood shimmered on her skin, encasing her in a warm glow. She was the fire and he the fly, wholly intrigued with what he knew would only harm him in the end, inching ever closer and waiting for the burn.

He knew he shouldn't trust her, shouldn't be blindly following her about like a puppy in unknown territory, but what other choice did he have? Lilith was the closest thing to God and if he wanted to make things right, ensure that the rest of his time would be spent in relative comfort, the risk was worth it.

In silence they walked across the field in no particular direction at all, taking turns every so often toward nothing. There were no visible markers; no trees, no roads, not even a damned sign to tell him where they were going.

Then, as his frustration began to mount at their pointless journey, a courtyard came into view. The area was encased by tall hedges, like prison walls, keeping in Eden's cattle. He peered ahead, watching the nude bodies that populated the square shuffle in circles, weaving around one another effortlessly though their heads were pointed toward the ground.

Steve slowed, eyeing them cautiously. "What's wrong with them?"

Lilith paused at the edge of the courtyard. "In their waking life, these humans were guilty of transgressions against our race. As punishment, they are prisoners in their own bodies. They can think, and feel, but cannot speak, nor will they die when their blood has been drained."

He felt a sudden chill in his bones. This could have very well been his fate if he had not been turned, spending the rest of eternity as an undying shell with a limitless supply of blood. Steve had read the bible front to back more times than he could count. He knew of all the punishments he'd receive if he fucked up, but the book spoke nothing of this.

_Eden _was Hell in disguise, and he was one of its many devils.

They walked along the stone path toward a row of benches, crafted from white marble. Cut into the stone was the long, detailed form of a serpent, winding around the back of the bench. The head jut from the arm of the bench, mouth open wide and bearing its long fangs.

Steve groaned as the breeze carried with it the scent of the life force that coursed within them. He hadn't realized how hungry he was, or long it had been since he truly fed. It was long before arriving at the camp. The TruBlood did little, if anything, to satiate his thirst and once the bottles had been tainted there was no hope of feeding at all.

Steve's fingers curled, digging into his palm as he struggled against the urge to reach out and claim one of the bodies as his own. To sink his fangs into their pulsing veins and drink deeply.

Lilith only encouraged him. "Drink. They are yours to ravage."

As fast as his body would allow, Steve lurched forward and grabbed a young woman by the throat. He could feel the skip of her heart under his thumb, racing while he pulled her down to the ground. Steve tore into her throat and tasted the first drops, swirling the red on his tongue, savoring the flavor.

Steve ate like a king, gorging on the blood until his stomach became bloated and a familiar drowsiness set in.

"God, this is like Thanksgiving; a good ol' turkey coma." Steve wiped blood from his chin and eyed the young girl. She hadn't moved once during his feeding. It was like he was feeding from someone in a coma. The thought made it feel wrong, but the blood was far too good to care.

The barest hint of a smile curved her lips. "For now, this world is yours to explore. If you wish to retain your cognizance and not devolve into another vessel to be ripped apart and drained, keep away from the north. When you've regained your strength, we'll meet again, Steven."

Lilith stared past him for a moment, an unreadable expression on her face. She turned away from him then and Steve watched as she left bloody footprints behind on the light stone. The blood dried and rose into the air, thousands of red specks spiraling toward the sun and disappearing completely.

"You made a grave mistake drinking the blood. It's poison."

Steve spun on his heel toward the newcomer, body braced for an attack he silently prayed would not come. While the blood lessened the ache, he wasn't sure his body could handle much more trauma. His fangs dropped while he spoke. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Warlow."


End file.
